“Please have a seat,” Archmagus Eldric commanded, his voice resonating like thunder that shook the very foundations of the Atlantis Magic School—the only place where only a select few students were granted entry. The aroma of magical crystals and the dust of ages created an atmosphere that was almost suffocating.

  Fitran, Irithya, and Rinoa settled onto the stone benches, intricately carved with spiraling glyphs. Shadows of Council members in silvery-white robes flitted by, radiating a profound and mysterious aura. Spheres of light hung in the air, forming a magical barrier that separated them from the outside world. Beyond their cocoon, the morning bells chimed a gentle rhythm of life, while in this chamber, it felt as if time itself had come to a standstill.

  Eldric regarded each of them in turn, his eyes glinting like those of a hawk. “Our time is precious,” he stated with authority. “Irithya, speak the truth. Who is your mother?”

  Irithya clenched her hands, trembling slightly. She lowered her head for a moment, then glanced at Fitran, seeking solace in the unwavering gaze of her friend. “My mother is Iris Gaia,” she replied, her voice quivering as she fought against the ache within. “She is the daughter of King Charles Gaia. The heir to a throne that sank sixteen years ago.”

  Gasps of shock rippled through the Council members, whispers and a wave of emotion filling the room, caught between curiosity and tension.

  Eldric nodded slowly, his expression as stoic as stone. “But why reveal all of this now?” His voice was firm, yet it carried an unmistakable undertone of concern.

  Irithya took a deep breath, her voice trembling, yet there was a palpable strength beneath it. “For the past sixteen years, her absence has not been merely physical. My mother was imprisoned and enslaved by Chaos, the ruler of Mythranis... who also happens to be my father.”

  As if struck by lightning, those words shattered the remaining calm. Behind the stone walls, the echo of ancient spells reverberated, intensifying the tension that hung in the air.

  Rinoa gasped, her face a mask of disbelief. “So... everything that’s been said about Chaos... it’s true? He really did abduct the Princess of Gaia?”

  Irithya lowered her gaze, her eyes shimmering with sorrow. “I… am the result of that enslavement. In Mythranis, I watched my mother’s honor trampled every day, stripped of her identity. And she remained unaware that the outside world still awaited her.”

  Fitran fought to steady his emotions, his voice quivering. “But, how did you manage to escape, Irithya?”

  Irithya's voice dropped, heavy with anguish as she stared at the ground. “Chaos cares for no one, not even for his own flesh and blood. He allowed me to learn about magic, but at a horrifying price: I must not touch Gaia’s history. Yet, I knew... my mother always yearned for the chance to be free. She taught me to remain silent, to conceal my true self until the moment was right.”

  One of the Council members inquired gently, “What is the source of your information that Chaos plans to attack Ente Island?”

  Irithya turned her head, her face pale as if a great weight bore down on her. “He… has been gathering his forces for years, meticulously preparing his dark design. Now, with the Manastones on Ente Island ready to unleash the most ancient magic, Chaos intends to use them to unite the world—under his dominion. If that comes to pass, Gaia will fall, and my mother… oh, she will never return.” Her voice faded to a whisper, evoking a haunting reminder of profound loss that hung in the air.

  Fitran clenched his fist, a faint blue spiral aura wrapping around him with an intensity that felt like a storm poised to erupt. "Is your mother still alive?" he asked, his eyes filled with hope, though a shroud of fear enveloped his question.

  Irithya nodded slowly, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. "She… is still here. But every day, a piece of her fades away—each time Chaos forces her into a ritual or steals away her most cherished memories." She gasped for breath, as if each word was a torment unto itself.

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  Eldric inhaled deeply, his voice husky as he sank into his thoughts. "So, the only way to save Iris Gaia is to stop Chaos's influence, isn't it?" he queried, his gaze sharp, as though he were trying to uncover more than just the surface meaning of their words.

  Irithya nodded once more, the determination in her eyes unmistakable. "That's why I'm sharing all of this. War for anyone else feels empty to me; what dominates my thoughts is the freedom of my mother—that's all that matters." Her voice, filled with resolve and sorrow, resonated deeply with those who listened, creating an atmosphere charged with emotion.

  Rinoa gazed intently at Irithya, her expression radiating heartfelt empathy. “I… can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must be to live in such circumstances, Irithya. You know my promise; I’ll do my utmost to help you.” She reached for Irithya's arm, offering a comforting embrace amidst the despair.

  Fitran observed Rinoa with unwavering attention, nodding slowly, as if he comprehended the weight of each word spoken. “I stand beside you. For Gaia, for our spiral world, and for your unyielding hope regarding your mother.”

  Eldric stood tall, his cloak billowing in the wind, enhancing his aura of command. “We need to stay focused. The Atlantis Council plans to reach out to King Charles tonight. However, Irithya, you must vow before them that your tale is not merely a trick of magic or a mere trap.”

  Irithya steadied her breath, her posture resolute, and her eyes sparkled with determination as she faced the Council members. “I swear, by my name, by my mother's blood, and by the will of the spiral—I am here not as an agent of Chaos, but as a child yearning for her mother.”

  The radiant spiral rune reflected the depths of her soul, while blue light danced around Irithya. It was as if even the World Tree sensed the sincerity of the oath she spoke.

  One of the Council members, an elder woman with shimmering silver eyes that seemed to emanate wisdom, approached softly. “Young one, sometimes the most fearsome creatures aren't lurking outside but rather the seeds of hatred that can take root within us, wouldn't you agree?”

  Irithya fought back tears, her voice a gentle yet firm whisper. “I understand, ma'am. But my fear of losing my mother eclipses the dread I have of losing myself.”

  After that gathering, Fitran walked out alongside Irithya and Rinoa. The subterranean corridors felt desolate, their footsteps echoing ominously, intertwining with the whispered spells etched into the walls. A tense shadow seemed to envelop them, heightening the suspense with each passing second.

  Rinoa clasped Irithya's arm, her concern clearly reflected in her eyes. “If you start to feel weary, I can brew you a calming potion. At the very least, I'll prepare a cozy spot in the dormitory. You’re not alone in this; remember that,” she said soothingly, striving to ensure her companion felt the robust support she needed.

  Irithya responded to Rinoa's words with a faint smile that hinted at her gratitude. “Thank you, Rinoa. I’m not used to such kindness... it feels almost foreign to me,” she said, her fingers nervously gripping the folds of Rinoa's sleeve, a silent testament to how much this gesture meant to her.

  Fitran, walking beside them, observed with a sharp gaze. His eyes shone like embers, radiating an intensity of rage and a resolve that was unbreakable. “I can’t wait any longer. It’s my duty to deliver the message to Gaia. King Charles needs to know that his daughter is alive and in danger,” his voice resonated with determination, as if his words were weapons poised against the looming threat.

  Irithya's curiosity bubbled up, catching her intrigue. “You’re truly set on this, aren’t you?” she asked, brow furrowing as she tried to grasp the fiery spirit igniting within Fitran.

  Fitran replied with a flat smile that still conveyed his unwavering spirit. “I’m just someone who can’t stand idly by while this world is at risk,” he said, his movements reflecting the defiance and ambition swirling in his mind.

  Rinoa wrapped her arms around her friends, infused with hope. “This time, I want to be part of this fight. I refuse to be a mere spectator in this unfolding drama.” Her eyes sparkled with determination, signaling that she was ready to dive deeper into the fray.

  Irithya nodded enthusiastically, inspired by Rinoa’s words. “Perhaps, in this winding world, we must all be brave enough to face the risks. To be heroes, even though we might feel like ordinary people,” she expressed, her sincerity vibrating in her voice, as if she was trying to ignite the fighting spirit within them.

  Above their heads, a spiral glyph pulsed, shifting from blue to green, then to purple. The colors seemed to reflect the monumental decision they had just made, reminding them of the fateful change lurking patiently ahead.

  In the distance, within the ritual chamber of Mythranis, Chaos directed his piercing crimson gaze westward. A sly smile curved on his lips, his fingers delicately brushing through Iris Gaia’s untamed hair, which hung loosely around the grand stone throne. “Iris,” he whispered playfully, his voice smooth as ice gliding over skin. “At last, this world begins to recognize your name. But remember this: this time, you’re mine—or I shall not acknowledge you at all.”

  Iris Gaia lowered her head, allowing tears to fall down her cheeks. Yet, in an instant, her gaze ignited—a glimmer of hope sparkling like morning light after being trapped in darkness for far too long. That fighting spirit seemed to signal that she would not merely be a pawn in this game.